


A Long Look

by TheMourningMadam



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-30
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:14:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24363388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMourningMadam/pseuds/TheMourningMadam
Summary: When a boggart and the Mirror of Erised both reveal Draco Malfoy, Hermione finds herself questioning everything she knows about, not only him, but herself as well. (An open-ended story that ends as HEA as a sixth-year story can-with Dramione together).
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 1
Kudos: 32





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warning: implied domestic violence, implied rape, and implied death of a child (these are things mentioned/implied by a boggart. no graphic depictions).
> 
> "Come on now, we're going to go build a mirror-factory first and put out nothing but mirrors for the next year and take a long look in them." —said by Granger, "Fahrenheit 451"

"Miss Granger," Snape's long drawl sent an aberrant shiver down her spine, "just because Professor McGonagall finds it appropriate to have you act as a professors' aide does not mean I agree. I do not feel I need a shadow being cast over my classroom, hanging over me like a dementor."

Hermione bristled under his words, wincing internally though she fought to remain stoic to his face. Though it was only her sixth year, Professor McGonagall had granted her permission to shadow any of the professors she wished as she prepared preemptively for her NEWTs and possible subsequent teaching position upon graduation. The other professors had all been grateful for a second set of eyes and ears to look after the students.

Snape had been her only resistance thus far. And he made his opinion on the matter quite clear before sweeping his cloak around him and stalking off in the direction of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Hermione sighed, rolling her eyes at his brutish behaviors and jogged to catch up to him. "You won't even know I'm here."

"See to it," Snape snarled, thrusting the door open with a sharp jab of his hand.

The students were already sitting at their desks, the same look of absolute dread on each of the Ravenclaw's faces. The Slytherin third years all sat back, arrogant smirks on some of their faces as their Head of House strode in.

"Stand," commanded Snape loudly.

Students looked at each other, questioning if they'd heard him correctly. Snape looked at them with complete exasperation. "Have you all suddenly gone deaf? I said stand!"

Everyone rose slowly, still glancing at one another in confusion. Once they had all risen, Snape clapped his hands once and then made a motion as though parting the Red Sea. The desks flew to opposite sides of the room, crashing obnoxiously against the stone and scattering book bags and spilling the contents of ink pots. "Today," the professor began, striding once more toward the back of the classroom, "you will each face your greatest fears."

There was a collective hum of whispers as the students all exchanged sentiments of intrigue and terror. Hermione raised an eyebrow and leaned back against the only desk that had remained stationary—the massive mahogany one where Snape's name plate rested. _A boggart_. When faced with the creature three years prior, in this very room, Professor McGonagall had stepped out of the wardrobe, spouting off her failing grades in turn. The anxiety of that lesson had caused her two days of full blown panic before she was able to be convinced that it was merely a manifestation of her greatest, most deep-seated fear.

While this was certainly still a frightening possibility, Hermione knew deep within her heart that the Professor would no longer waltz out of that cabinet. When she closed her eyes, it was _his_ face that flashed in the blacks of her eyelids. Harry's voice rang clear in her head, the statement rattling around her brain: " _He's a Death Eater, Hermione. Just like his father."_

Guilt gnawed at her gut as she swallowed down the possibility of this being true. There was no way Draco Malfoy was a Death Eater. She _knew_ him, in ways that were far more intimate than just sins of the flesh. They'd spent countless hours hiding in the greenhouses, walking the perimeter of the castle grounds after dark, kissing in the Room of Requirement. A forced partnership in third year Charms had led to three years of clandestine meetings between the two. She'd had to deceive her friends, lie about her whereabouts. She'd had to nick Harry's Marauder's Map one night as he slept in the Common Room and use a tricky bit of magic to reroute her name to anywhere away from where Draco's appeared. She had risked everything to be with him.

_But hasn't he changed?_ Her friends' beliefs were seeping into every part of her psyche like poison. Ruining him for her. Since they'd returned to Hogwarts in September, Hermione thought she noticed dark flashes in Draco's normally silver eyes, storm clouds betraying something working below the surface. He was quieter, more contemplative lately. To the rest of the world, this would be attributed to his father's incarceration. But she knew better. Draco hated his father. For years, he'd tried to live up to his expectations, constantly falling short. His father saw him as a perpetual disappointment and Draco resented him for that. No. Lucius Malfoy's place behind bars had nothing to do with whatever was going on in that pristine blond head.

Hermione had questioned him, only once, a month prior as they spent the evening together before winter holidays. His reaction was enough for her to mind her own business. His features had steeled, his cheeks somehow more gaunt than the minute before. The thunderstorm swirled behind his eyes and his jaw had sharpened as he ground his teeth. " _Who wouldn't be stressed? The Dark Lord is back and we're here, pretending to give a shit about Engorgement Charms. Be smarter than to ask such asinine questions, Granger."_ His outburst had shut her right up. _Granger_. She'd been reduced to her surname once more.

There was something more. A detail that kept Hermione up at night and made her uncomfortable each and every time she felt it. Residual Dark magic was tainting his magical signature. His core had changed during their separation over the summer until the untamed and raw magic sent vibrations through her own body. She pretended not to notice the random surges of hatred that coursed through her daily; the searing and aching pains in the sinews of her muscles just another part of her day.

Hermione instantly regretted entering Snape's classroom. While she would normally jump into know-it-all mode and wish to share the vast wealth of knowledge contained in her brain, today she would stay true to her word. She would remain in the background— so much so that the professor wouldn't even remember she was there without a glance in her direction.

"A boggart is the safest method of learning to face your fears and to fight valiantly against them. It will take the shape of whatever scares you most in this world, but it is your responsibility to defeat the boggart promptly and safely."

Hermione watched as a Ravenclaw, much shorter than average height for his age, stepped up to Snape's crudely singed _x_ on the floor. Snape took two steps back and crossed his arms. "The incantation is ' _riddikulus!'_ When you say this, attempt to think of something comedic and the combination of thoughts and spell work will defeat the creature."

The Ravenclaw boy gave one single nod, gulping heavily as Snape waved his wand toward the wardrobe. The furniture piece was still for a moment before the door creaked on its hinges and a man walked out. Nothing seemed to be amiss. At least not at first. But when the boggart approached the boy, the boy was shaking. " _Freak!"_ the man screeched, lowering his gaze to stare right into the thirteen-year-old's. " _I know what you are! I'm going to turn you into the proper authorities. You'll be locked away forever!"_

A muggle. The Ravenclaw was afraid of the muggles finding out he was a wizard. As the man got even closer to his face, now pointing a finger and accusing him of the Devil's work, Snape lazily called out, "The incantation, Mr. Gromfeld."

Gromfeld stood petrified for a moment more before he raised his wand and pointed it right between the boggart muggle's eyes. " _Riddikulus!"_ The boggart turned into a clown, which made another student gasp in horror. The clown smashed a pie into his own face before retreating to the wardrobe once more.

And so it went, the young people all stepping up valiantly to show their vulnerabilities to their classmates. A meek young lady, the second to last student, stepped up to the marred floor. Her lip was tucked between her teeth and Hermione could see she'd drawn blood. "I don't want to do this," she looked to Snape who sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Miss Orner, this is for a grade. You will participate or fail the lesson."

The girl seemed on the verge of tears as she gave a slight nod and raised her wand. "You're okay," she whispered to herself, her spine stiffening as the boggart pounded three times on the interior of the wardrobe before swinging the door open. Out stepped a man that could only be her father, as the pair was nearly identical in appearance.

She took a step back, her wand trembling before falling to the ground. The boggart undid the buckle of his belt and slid it through the loops in one fell swoop. "I thought I told you to watch your baby brother," he accused.

"I'm sorry, dad." The girl covered her face with her hands as the boggart snapped the belt against his intimidatingly.

"Now he's gone and poisoned himself by eating all the nightshade mulberries. We had to bury his casket under your window!"

"No!" the girl choked and Snape raised a brow. "' _Riddikulus,_ Miss Orner. Pick up your wand and fight back. This is merely a delusion from your own mind."

When it appeared that the Slytherin girl had no intention of opening her eyes or retrieving her wand from the floor, Hermione leaped forth, desperate to give the girl some reprieve.

As soon as she put herself between the Slytherin and her father, the boggart transformed. It grew two inches and a balding head was replaced by a swath of baby-soft platinum hair. A second shape began to form in front of the morphing Draco Malfoy, one with a mass of curly hair. Within seconds she was staring into her own face, dirty and hollowed.

She wore a tattered nightgown, stained with blood and grime, every inch of exposed skin smeared with dirt. Violet and yellowed bruises littered her body, love bites lining her thighs, her shoulders, coloring her neck. Her eyes had dulled from malnutrition and her body seemed far too frail to stand.

Draco was standing behind her, a hand wrapped firmly around her throat as she gasped for air. His hand held her upright, taking over where her weakness left off. His shirt disintegrated, leaving his left forearm exposed. A shock of ebony lines intertwined into a crude skull and serpent, staining his otherwise porcelain skin. Draco smirked evilly in her direction, a malicious glint in his eye. One that seemed all too familiar as of late. "Say it," he crooned into her ear, the fingers of his fist tightening infinitesimally around her trachea.

She leaned back into him, almost as though she belonged in this grotesque embrace. "I'm yours."

"My what?" Draco looked up at where Hermione stood, frozen to the spot as her boggart visage gasped raggedly once more.

"Mudblood."

Hermione felt her mouth drop open as her arms went limp and suddenly the scene changed once more. Around her, students were starting to speak, their voices rising amidst a terrified din of noise.

Snape was clutching the frame of a red-headed woman. One with emerald green eyes that she'd stared into far too many times before. Hermione shook her head just as Snape shouted the incantation. She didn't even have time to contemplate why Lily Potter had appeared in his boggart before he spat, "Class is dismissed. Get. OUT!"

The students all scrambled to gather their strewn items and Hermione knew the rumor mill was already churning out the next audacious set of lies. Draco would know what she had seen within the hour, with the agony of added embellishments only making her apology to him that much harder. She could only hope that she saw him and could explain herself _before_ someone in his own House got to him first.

As she grabbed her bag and made to leave, Snape hissed her name as he padlocked the wardrobe. Hermione stopped in her tracks, taking a deep breath as she steeled herself to face him. "Yes, Professor?"

Snape peered conspiratorially toward a couple of Slytherins that were moving entirely too slow to be kosher. "Eavesdropping will get twenty points taken from Slytherin," the two students moaned, " _apiece._ May this be a lesson is listening to directions. Now, as I said, get out of my classroom!"

Once they'd hurried out into the corridor, Snape waved his wand, effectively slamming the door. "Sit down, Miss Granger."

"I think I'd rather stand."

"Now," he commanded, moving a chair up to hit the back of her knees until she fell back into it. "Would you care to explain what just happened here?"

Hermione deigned to play the fool, just this once. "I'm not sure what you're referring to—you allowing a student to become that distressed, or your boggart turning into the dead body of Lily Potter."

Snape's eyes narrowed as he tented his fingers in front of his face, staring at her from where he sat behind his desk. "Do not play ignorant with me, Miss Granger. It's not a good look for you. Though, with that hairstyle, I doubt much is."

His cruel smile told Hermione that he was merely trying to get a rise out of her. His annoyed countenance slid onto his face quickly. "I'm referring to your boggart taking the form of Draco Malfoy."

She honestly did not have the slightest clue on how to explain this to anyone yet, least of all him. She panicked, trying to come up with a lie. Any lie. "I had a dream where he was a Death Eater over the summer. It must have stuck with me until now."

Tapping his tented fingers to his lips, Snape regarded her with disdain. "Miss Granger, save your empty declarations and lies for someone else. I can see right into that head of yours, with such ease that you didn't know I was even scratching around in that oversized brain of yours."

Alarm flooded her entire being. Three years of secret keeping, of sneaking around, of whispered promises were getting ready to come to a screeching halt. "Please, Professor. No one can know. His father would disown him. He'd lose all he stands to inherit."

"He has far bigger issues brewing this year. Or haven't you noticed?"

So Hermione was not barmy. Snape was confirming that there was something going on with Draco. "He's been...distant."

"I cannot begin to explain to you the pressure that Draco is under with Lucius...away. He cannot afford to have his future compromised by such...dalliances, Miss Granger."

"I would never try to—"

"There is no try. Only do. And right now, what you are doing is putting him into grave danger by palling around with him. Stay away from him. This is my only warning to you."

Hermione stared into the hook-nosed face of her least favorite teacher and felt a wave of betrayal wash over her. There _was_ something major going on and Draco hadn't confided in her what. Snape may be his godfather, but Hermione was his _everything_. Or so he'd told her. "I will not abandon him if he needs me."

Snape narrowed his eyes, gritting his teeth behind pursed lips. "You have no idea what you are getting yourself into, girl."

Hermione stood, scooting the chair loudly against the stone and side stepping it so he couldn't force her down again. "I'll take my chances... _Professor_."

And with that, she tore from the room as though a flame were lit in her knickers. Without the greasy face of the Defense teacher breathing over her, the scene from the boggart filled her mind completely. Draco had looked so pleased with himself, seemingly keeping Hermione around as... _as what?_ His wife? No. She was far too unkempt for that. His concubine? A pureblood wouldn't stoop so low. No. It appeared she was his little pet, to torture as he wished. If her skimpy gown and the bruises along her inner thighs were any indicator, the torture wasn't merely external.

Tears burned in her eyes as she fled toward Gryffindor tower. She wished she could blame this entire experience on a misunderstanding. She would run to him behind the greenhouses tonight, wrap herself tight around him and tell him how she'd had a terrible nightmare. But she knew. She felt it within her. Something wasn't right. He had changed over the summer.

She couldn't—wouldn't—believe that Draco Malfoy had become a Death Eater overnight. His demeanor up through fifth year, though arrogant and falsely cruel, didn't support that theory in the slightest. Draco was funny, his quick wit and sarcasm a welcome change to her friends' dull and simple humor. He was smart and studious, always ready to spark up a competition between the two of them while they completed their assignments by candlelight in the Room of Requirement. Though there was always an underlying edge about him, he was fiercely protective of her. Possessive. Of her. A common mudblood in the eyes of Voldemort and his followers.

No. Draco Malfoy was no Death Eater.

o-o-o


	2. Chapter 2

Hermione found herself in the Room of Hidden Things, trying to disappear from the gossip and whispers. Draco hadn't found her yet, and dread settled in the pit of her belly at the prospect. Her boggart would no doubt raise questions about him, causing suspicion where none was due. It worried her to think she had brought about trouble for him.

The pair usually opted to use this space as the Room of Requirement, needing little more than a bed or couch and a fire in the fireplace. Tonight, however, she was in search of a particular object she knew to be in the room. She wove her way through the stacks of discarded books and baubles toward the back.

A heavy drapery covered the mirror and it took two hands to pull it down with a sharp tug. Reverently, Hermione ran her fingertips over the inscription " _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on wohsi."_ Too many times before, she had sat in front of this very mirror, staring at her heart's desire.

From the glass, Draco stared back. He was smiling at her—a genuine smile. Not a smirk or a cruel grin laced with venom. His likeness smiled at her in a way that touched his eyes and made a dimple appear in his cheek. He stood there with his hands tucked in his pockets and beaming as though he could see her here in the real world, and _she_ was all _he_ ever wanted.

Hermione lifted her finger and traced the outline of his lips, wishing things could be different. She wished there were no war looming on the horizon, that blood prejudice didn't separate their two worlds, that he would go against his parents and love her anyway.

"Following me, Granger?"

She jumped at the sound of his voice as the surface went black. With her hand over her heart, she turned to face him. Her heart thudded vigorously below the palm of her hand and words sputtered out of her mouth. "Of course not. I…About earlier, I can explain."

Draco put his hand up and peered over her shoulder into the mirror. "Curious. What kind of a mirror _is_ this?"

Hermione stepped aside as he frowned at whatever image he saw. "It shows a person the reflection of their one true desire." Trying desperately to steady her heart, her mind refused to cooperate. Instead it ran through various scenarios of what he could possibly see looking back at him. "What do you see?"

He lifted a brow and turned away. "Nothing I deserve. Bloody thing must be broken."

"It's not a scrying mirror—it doesn't show the future. Only what you wish for."

" _I wish_ for some peace and quiet," he remarked. He was surly and his tongue sharp and guilt gnawed at her belly.

He weaved his way away from her and Hermione put her hand out to grab his sleeve. "I'm sorry about what happened in Snape's classroom today. I hadn't intended to go anywhere near the boggart, but a student needed help."

"Can you explain to me why the boggart showed me _murdering_ you?"

"Murder? Is that what you heard?" Hermione questioned, furrowing her brow. "It didn't show you killing me. It showed us, but...different."

"Different? Different how?"

"I was dirty and sickly. It was like I was your _slave_ or something. Not your lover or your wife."

Draco's hard facade melted and she was left with the haunted countenance he'd sported all year. Expecting a row, Hermione was surprised when he instead stepped in and wrapped his arms around her. "I know you've heard whispers of the first war—I've heard them, too. But I would _never_ —" his voice faltered and he took a moment to gather himself before he finished. "I would never take you as a concubine. If I can't have you as a wife, I won't have you at all."

"You can have me," she whispered, trickling her fingers over the soft skin of his jaw. "I'm yours."

He smirked then, stepping in to brush his nose along hers. There was a hint of firewhisky on his breath and she could nearly taste the cinnamon in the air between them. "My what?"

_Mudblood._

"Witch."

A growl of appreciation rumbled in his throat as he claimed her lips with a nip of his teeth. Backing her up a few feet, he pushed her against a solid surface and pinned her with his hips. Draco kissed her like he wanted to get every ounce of frustration out, teeth biting and tongue unrelenting. Hermione locked her arms around his neck, playing with the soft hair at the nape.

His fingers pressed into her skin and he held her tightly as he pulled back only enough to rest his forehead against hers. "You thought you could hide from me in here?" he questioned, pinching her hip. "In my own personal hell?"

She scoffed, a slight smile twisting her lips. "What do you mean? This place is nothing more than an oversized junk drawer."

His brow furrowed at the phrase but he brushed her lips with his, gentle in comparison to a few moments prior. He stilled and dipped his face between them, looking at the buttons of her blouse rather than at her. "I'm in trouble, Hermione. I've avoided asking you for help all year, but I don't know what else to do."

Hermione leaned into the hard surface behind her head and tugged at his hair to pull him back. Looking up at him with worry, she noticed that the violet rimming his eyes was more pronounced. He looked as though he hadn't eaten in days. "What is it?"

"The Dark Lord wants to kill me."

As soon as he said it, he pushed away from her, moving to stand beside a stack of books a foot away. Her eyes went wide as her lips parted. _The Dark Lord._ Not Voldemort. Harry and Ron were right. Hermione began to feel sick as dread and disgust competed for prominence in her belly.

Still his wan appearance, the way his hands shook by his sides, it plucked at her heartstrings. "What do you mean? Why does he want to kill you?"

"For my father's misgivings at the Ministry."

It was a topic they'd only broached once, when Draco had kissed and caressed her skin over and over again, promising to kill Dolohov for wounding her. She moved to join him, taking his left hand in her own. She watched as he gulped, the bob of his Adam's apple, before she locked eyes with him. She unbuttoned the sleeve of his oxford slowly.

Her breath caught in her throat as she broke eye contact and lifted his sleeve just enough to see the bottom jaw of a viper imprinted on his pristine skin. She dropped his hand and took a step back. He stepped forward, refusing to give her space. "Please, Hermione. You have to understand. I didn't want this. He'll force me to kill my mother before he disposes of me."

Hermione stared, trying to decipher what was in his soul. He looked to be near ruin, his entire body vibrating now. Sitting atop the stack of books, he simply lifted his hands in a gesture like he had no words. Everything in her screamed to inform Dumbledore, to do the right thing. But the broken set of his shoulders and the tremble of his lip made her falter in her plans. "What do we need to do?"

"You'll-You'll help?" And with that, he broke down sobbing.

She knew then that she was in too deep. She would walk through fire for him. She would lie for him. She would _die_ for him.

Hermione went to him, wrapping her arms around him as though she alone could shield him from Voldemort.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this short is done. It was going to have another chapter of smut, but to be honest, I have so much smut to write soon that I didn't care to insert it here. Pun intended.
> 
> Please review!

**Author's Note:**

> Beta love to ThorneAndRose—I appreciate you reading over this a few times and on such short notice.
> 
> This is the first of only two chapters. Based on a prompt of sorts— roughly, "What if the boggart and the person in the mirror of erised were one and the same."
> 
> Thank you for reading and please review! I'd love to know what you think.


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